Saturday, November 30, 2013
Harder to survive on the margins
BLOGGER'S NOTE: This preview of the fourth and final season of Treme contains mild spoilers for the last five episodes, but nothing too serious. If you fear knowing ANYTHING ahead of time, move along. Also, health problems and other interruptions have put timely recaps in jeopardy. At least part of the first episode will be up in time Sunday, but I can't make promises about timeliness going forward.
The headline that I used for this preview of the truncated fourth and final season of HBO's Treme paraphrases something Marvin Frey (Michael Cerveris), manager of Annie Tee aka Talarico (Lucia Micarelli), says to his client in the Sunday season premiere after she finishes a set with her band. Frey advises Annie that her album has peaked and, if she wishes to continue her ascent to stardom, her act requires big changes. While Frey's statement specifically
pertains to Annie, it also applies to the unforgivable final season HBO allowed for this great series created by David Simon and Eric Overmyer. Yes, even in the commercial-free universe of pay cable, where subscribers should matter more than ratings, the various TV ratings systems (which grow more imperfect and outmoded by the day as the methods by which viewers watch TV evolve in ways A.C. Nielsen never could have envisioned) still capture the attention of channels such as HBO and Treme never drew an audience comparable to shows such as The Sopranos, Game of Thrones or even Boardwalk Empire. I suppose I should commend them for sticking with Treme as long as they did, but that doesn't excuse HBO for the scraps that it threw the series' way for a final season. Despite the burdens of a season half the size of a traditional one (and they received an 11-episode order for season 2) and steep cuts to staff and crew, the people remaining at Treme manage to go out well with few signs on the screen of the behind-the-scenes austerity measures imposed upon them in order to complete the story they never intended to run past four seasons. When I first learned of what HBO gave Treme for Season 3.5, my thoughts went to the citizens of New Orleans and the city itself, whose economy benefited from the series' filming there each year. Hasn't that city suffered enough? I digress. Five episodes remain to spend with the great characters we've met over the previous 31 episodes. We'll join the second line after the last episode airs Dec. 29. As the card shown above from Sunday's premiere indicates, the final season of Treme picks up 38 months after Hurricane Katrina and the federal flood that followed and devastated New Orleans and neighboring regions. More specifically, the day on which season 3.5 chooses to begin happens to be Nov. 4, 2008 — that historic day that saw Barack Obama elected the first African-American president of the United States. While the U.S. started the process of transition from one president to another, we learn of changes to most of the characters in the Treme universe in the premiere, “Yes We Can Can” (written by Simon, Overmyer & George Pelecanos, directed by Anthony
Hemingway), in terms of relationships started and ended, both personal and professional. For those forgetting where we left our friends more than a year ago, LaDonna Batiste-Williams (Khandi Alexander) struggled after her bar GiGi’s got torched in a suspicious, presumed revenge fire; Delmond Lambreaux (Rob Brown) found himself more torn than ever between his New York jazz career and his New Orleans roots, especially after his father Albert (Clarke Peters) began treatment for cancer; Janette Desautel (Kim Dickens) continued to butt heads with Tim Feeny (Sam Robards), the moneyman behind her new restaurant, Desautel’s on the Avenue; Sofia Bernette (India Ennenga) headed east for college as her mom Toni (Melissa Leo) continued to fight the good fight and began a relationship with Lt. Terry Colson (David Morse), who attempted to do the same within his police department; Sonny Schilder* (Michiel Huisman) wore down Tran (Lee Nguyen), the father of Linh (Hong Chau), and made her his bride; Nelson Hidalgo (Jon Seda), back in the good graces of C.J. Liguori (Dan Ziskie) and friends after exile for association with Oliver Thomas, worked on various projects, including a New Orleans city jazz center, a project that Del and Albert already decided not to take part in despite a possible lucrative end; Annie’s burgeoning career led to her breakup with Davis McAlary (Steve Zahn), who gave a “final” performance announcing he was quitting the music industry; and Antoine Batiste (Wendell Pierce) found himself getting into the groove in his job as the assistant band instructor at Theophile Jones Elie Elementary. My return to recapping Treme episodes comes after sitting out Season 3 (and post-episode summaries/reviews of Boardwalk Empire as well) due to worsening aspects of the physical limitations associated with my primary progressive multiple sclerosis. A major impediment to me continuing the recaps stemmed from the fact that my recaps of both series grew so insanely ambitious with research and links supplementing the general summary and assessment of each individual episode. In fact, I got so detailed when referring to neighborhoods and sections of New Orleans that some readers assumed that I either hailed from there or had lived in the city for a sizable portion of my life when I never got the chance to visit the Crescent City back when I was mobile. Thankfully, no one thought I was old enough that I acquired my knowledge of 1920s Atlantic City from first-hand experience. My recaps
for the final five episodes of Treme won't approach the detail or ambition of my season 2 efforts. (Look at my recap of Treme's season two episode "Carnival Time" or my recap of Boardwalk Empire's season 2 episode "To the Lost" to see how overboard I went.) I regret not being able to recap season 3 of Treme because I felt it turned out to be its best season, especially following season two, which contained individual episodes that proved great and contained truly memorable moments, but had too many episodes undermined by an editing style that seemed geared for children with ADD. In season three, the series largely corrected its flow problems and managed even to find use for some of its characters who had been annoying and pointless such as Sonny. It also introduced a new character in young enterprising reporter L.P. Everett (Chris Coy), a writer for ProPublica, who arrived in New Orleans to investigate the possible murder of a man by police following Hurricane Katrina. Everett's work brought him into contact with a natural ally in Toni and paralleled the internal frustration of Terry trying to delve into the culture of cover-up and corruption throughout the city's police department. While the entire ensemble managed to get their moments in season three, in my eyes, the season really belonged to Morse's stellar work as Colson. As a point of personal pride, when in season two Janette toured the kitchens of various New York restaurants, she began at the marvelous fictional creation Brulard’s, named for its owner and chef Enrico Brulard (a magnificent invention of a character by actor Victor Slezak — I still dream of spin-off where Brulard and Dr. John decide to open a restaurant and club together). Janette bonded best in Brulard's kitchen with actor Paul Fitzgerald's character, who never received a name, referred in credit lists simply by job title as Le poissonnier. In my recap of one of season two's best episodes, "Santa Claus, Do You Ever Get the Blues?" (written by Lolis Eric Elie, directed by Alex Zakrzewski), I decided to christen Fitzgerald's character as Paul. To my delight, when he turned up in New Orleans at Janette's new restaurant, he had a name and it happened to be Paul. I'd love to think I had a hand in that, but I'm not deluded enough to assume such a thing. It pleased me nonetheless and I wish I'd been able to note it when it occurred.What makes this final stretch of Treme particularly interesting are how some episodes seem to have an overlying theme in a way that previous installments didn't. While episodes might revolve around a common event or day such as Mardi Gras or Thanksgiving, a couple of these final five delve specifically, though subtly, into overarching topics. As I referred to earlier, few signs on-screen indicate the steep cuts made for the final season. You spot them when some regulars' names only appear in episodes in which they appear and in the relative absence of bigger names such as Elizabeth Ashley's wonderful Aunt Mimi, who appears but once and briefly.
Whenever I try to describe Treme to nonviewers, a pat description defies me. No television antecedent that's not really dependent on plot springs to mind as a comparison. Treme proves to be neither about the journey nor the destination while telling its tale of a community and its culture in the aftermath of a disaster, but, in the end, Katrina really isn't its point either. Miraculously, Treme works and, this late in the game, I finally realized the closest comparison to its type of storytelling. It came not from television, but a movie: Robert Altman's Nashville. It also focused on a musical community with a large cast of characters, some of whom met, some who didn't, and didn't contain what anyone could call a conventional plot, yet it's one of Altman's masterpieces. Of course, Nashville comes to a climax of sorts and covers a very specific period of time. That thought prompted memories of another essentially plotless, though quite different, great film that by coincidence took place in our bicentennial year: Richard Linklater's Dazed and Confused, only it contained no big finish. As for television, I still can't think of a Treme antecedent and that's probably a good thing. I expect someone to correct me in comments and come up with a similar TV example and I'll be suitably red-faced for that series not occurring to me, but until then I welcome that in my mind Treme stands as one-of-a-kind.
Treme premieres on Sunday night on HBO at 9 p.m. Eastern/8 p.m. Central.
*As far as I recall, Sonny's last name never was mentioned or seen on the show itself, but a book solved that mystery. Treme: Stories and Recipes from the Heart of New Orleans by Lolis Eric Elie, former story editor for the series, presents recipes belonging to various characters from Treme and it reveals Sonny's last name as Schilder when providing his dishes.
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Labels: Altman, Boardwalk Empire, Clarke Peters, D. Morse, David Simon, E. Ashley, HBO, Kim Dickens, Linklater, M. Cerveris, Melissa Leo, Overmyer, Television, The Sopranos, Treme, TV Recap, Wendell Pierce, Zahn
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Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Bouncing to a TV near you (plus a personal announcement)
At 11 tonight Eastern time on a network I didn't realize even existed, let alone that I had until recently, a new series
Jazz hardly stands as the sole musical genre born in the Crescent City, but as Treme's Davis McAlary (Steve Zahn) declared once, New Orleans' music scene tastes and has a recipe much like its gumbo: Lots of ingredients end up in the mix. One of the newer forms to spring forth from its club scene (and a particular favorite of Davis) goes by the name of bounce. Big Freedia: Queen of Bounce (which I haven't seen) promises to take viewers deeper into the culture and origins of that sound with one of its giants, Big Freedia, as our guide. The specific connection to Treme stems from Big Freedia's appearances in two of the second season's best episodes — "Everything I Do Gohn Be Funky" (written by Simon, directed by Tim Robbins) and "Santa Claus, Do You Ever Get the Blues?" (story by Overmyer and Lolis Eric Elie, written by Elie, directed by Alex Zakrzewski). Big Freedia took part in the constant attempts by Davis to enter the music industry, in this case by trying to recruit local artists to contribute tracks for a compilation CD so Davis can showcase his own work. Big Freedia got to take part in the priceless scene where Davis reluctantly takes his delightful Aunt Mimi (Elizabeth Ashley — even more priceless and delightful herself) to a club because she insists on seeing this bounce music for herself before agreeing to help finance her nephew's plan.
Speaking of Treme, my announcement. Provided that my fingers and hands hold up, I'm planning to recap the final episodes of Treme. Don't expect them to be as detailed as they were for season 2, but I'm going to try. I feel I owe it to the show, especially since my health problems prevented me from recapping season three, which turned out to be the series' best season. Keep your fingers crossed for me and hopefully my Treme recaps shall return for five more times in December.
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Labels: David Simon, E. Ashley, HBO, Music, Overmyer, Television, Tim Robbins, Treme, TV Recap, Zahn
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Sunday, July 03, 2011
Treme No. 21: Do Whatcha Wanna Part III
BLOGGER'S NOTE: This recap contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen the episode yet, move along.
By Edward Copeland
My deepest apologies for my tardiness with the conclusion of the season finale's recap/second season in review. The past couple of weeks I had just overscheduled myself without realizing it and while I got the first two parts out Sunday, I finally collapsed before I could finish Part III. Then I had anothe project that I had to have done for Tuesday so I couldn't get back to this until it was done. Unfortunately, fatigue is one of the biggest factors when you have multiple sclerosis and my mind still wants to think I can write as fast as I use to though my body begs to differ. Same things apply as in Parts I and II: recap is in plain type, commentary in italics. This serves as commentary for Sunday's finale (what I haven't covered yet) as well as the second season as a whole. Again, I apologize for any and all spelling, grammar or other types of errors of any kind. If somehow you got here without reading the first two parts, click for Part I and Part II.
After running into one of her rapists on the street, LaDonna and Larry pay a visit to ADA Baron and she probably feels lucky she's not on the ground like he was or LaDonna would kick the shit out of her as well, but she's gonna do the verbal equivalent. "For me to walk into a goddam bar five blocks from my own and see this motherfucker sittin' there drinkin' a Heineken like any other person," LaDonna says fiercely, staying on her feet while Larry stays seated in the background not saying a word. "It was a clerical mistake, Mrs. Williams. When we dropped the charges in the other case, the jail failed to note to detain him for your charges as well," Baron explains. If LaDonna weren't already pissed… "What the fuck is wrong with you people? You lose my brother in the damn jail for months and then you let this vicious little motherfucker go first chance you get." Khandi Alexander is a marvel to watch here. Not only does she modulate LaDonna's growing rage, her body movements become wildcat-like, as if she's stalking an antelope for supper and ADA Baron is that antelope. "We tryin' to live in this city. We tryin' to come back here but what little shit we got back
together and live and all you manage to bring to that is nothin'." Alexander starts the beginning of that sentence sounding as if she's gonna break again, but she doesn't — she even bares her teeth at the end. Is that a chunk of Ms. Baron's ass hanging from LaDonna's mouth? If not, it should be. "Rebuild the house? Hell no — fill out these forms and wait. Get your child back in school. Which one? You've got three different school systems. Two of them ain't teachin' shit and the third one can only open so many." Larry is doing his best to stay serious, but you can tell he wants to grin at his wife's tirade. "Open the hospital back up? Hell no — let's tear down some more neighborhoods instead. Solve a crime or two? Oh hell the fuck no." Baron dares to speak, saying, "I don't blame you for being upset." LaDonna turns around and gets closer to her than she's been and Larry can't hold the grin back any longer. "Upset? Bitch, I'm past upset. I'm all the way to lost my fuckin' mind." When LaDonna swings open the door to the outer office, you'd swear it was going to come off its hinges. As they wait for the elevator Larry says, "Tell ya one thing — we ain't selling that damn bar. Look at you — this is who I married. You went away, no you back." "What are you talking about Larry? You hate the bar. You always did," she says. "Hate it to death, but we ain't sellin' it and we ain't stayin' in Baton Rouge neither. We comin' home. All of us. You ain't gonna be who you are otherwise. I see it now" he tells her. The elevator arrives and the spouses embrace as the doors close. Two quick minor criticisms of an otherwise glorious scene. 1: If they accidentally released one rapist, is the other one out on the streets? 2: Granted, it's an awfully quick turnaround by Larry, but I would think it isn't the easiest thing in the world for a dentist to dump all his patients in one city and start a practice over from scratch in another city. Presumably his former New Orleans patients got new dentists and can't all be expected to come back, if they are still there. Not to mention poor Mrs. Brooks
who just leased that new apartment. Now, for LaDonna's season in general. Thank goodness that in the last few episodes, they made amends to Khandi Alexander for what should have been a powerful storyline for her all season long. I mentioned earlier how they screwed up the initial rape episode, but then they pretty much swept her aside for most episodes, giving her nothing more to do than sit somewhere drinking and watching TV. Then they blow the big reveal when Larry finds out she was raped by not showing us what happened when he found out and delaying any reaction until much later in that same episode and when they did, giving it less screen time than they devoted to Janette's roommate Nick describing David Chang's fictional restaurant. At least though they did finally make up for it, letting Alexander be the powerhouse she is — even giving us a knockout scene between her and Wendell Pierce. It also was great to see Lance Nichols be more than a glorified extra as Larry, showing he can deliver the goods as well. Perhaps next season if they're all coming back, he'll get a bump to regular. Davis meets Aunt Mimi for martinis at the French 75 Bar at Arnaud's Restaurant in the French Quarter. McAlary remains glum from all the recent encroachments on what should have been his glory. "Davis, you yourself said he was a better guitarist," his aunt tells him. "He is, definitely," a defeated Davis admits. "But you're still singin' or rappin' or whatever it is that you do," Mimi reminds him. "Well, I can see there is nothin' I can say to crash your pity party but" — Mimi lets out a little chuckle as she opens a checkbook, tears out a check and hands it to her nephew. — "this is for you." Davis takes it and asks, "What's this?" Mimi says, "It's just half the proceeds from sellin' Lil Calliope's contract to this
other local label called Cash something." She can't quite recall the label's actual name, but Davis knows. "You sold Calliope's contract to Cash Money for eight thousand four, five," Davis stumbles on the math, but Mimi interrupts anyhow. "Of course not. I sold it for thirty thousand dollars which means I am already in the black from this wonderful little adventure and we haven't even released the sampler yet. Woo! I love the music business," Mimi proclaims as she takes good swill of her martini. "OK. If you sold that for thirty thousand, why is mine four thousand?" Davis asks. "Davis, you are aware that you've been charging a variety of expenses to my credit card for the last several months. Honey it goes without saying —" Davis stops her before she can finish. "Never mind. I got it," he says. Sazerac strikes again. "Calliope. My band," he sighs Mimi corrects him. "Not the band. They just wanted Calliope." She can tell her nephew still looks beaten. "Don't look so glum. You just make yourself a new band. That's easy for you. Listen — you do what I do and I'll do what I do and everything will be peaches and cream, won't it?" Mimi tells him as she taps on her empty martini glass and asks for another. Elizabeth Ashley is just a hoot. I worried that too much Mimi might kill her charm, but it really hasn't. As for Davis, I've never understood dating back to the first season why there seemed to be such an anti-Davis/anti-Steve Zahn faction out there, because I've always enjoyed him. I thought he had some of his best moments this season, especially when he came to Sofia's rescue at Tipitina's and spoke to Toni afterward. I think his relationship with Annie has matured him to some extent, though it's an ongoing process that sometimes feels like one step forward, two steps back. With these series of blows here at the end and the way it plays out, perhaps he's finally recognized that he isn't what he thinks he is and he won't ever be. If Mimi stays the business side and Annie really starts writing songs, perhaps their label will release her first record and Davis will find that he belongs behind the scenes, not in front of the mic.In a scene that's the closest that Treme has come to anything resembling a scene from The Wire, two cars pull alongside each other in the dead of night for a clandestine meeting. FBI Special Agent James Collington (Colin Walker) asks Terry, "So what's so secret you won't even come to the field office?" Terry replies, "They still make you sign in at the front desk, right? Or is the FBI doing away with formalities?" "That bad?" Collington says. Terry hands him a file. "That's everything we have on the Danziger shoot. You might as well start saving string when Eddie screws up the state case." He hands the agent two more files. "Also this kid Abreu from First District and another one, Seals." He passes some more across the cars. "A couple more as well." With this pile of files in his lap, Collington asks, "And?" Terry responds, "All of it's been dumped. Every case. Witnesses blocked. Evidence missing. No followup. No real investigative response. And all of 'em, I'm beginnin' to believe are police involved." The agent says that's in Terry's opinion. "Let me tell you what I just did. I fuckin' lied to my captain. I told him I had spent casings that could link two of those cases — Abreu and Seals. I told him I had a witness saying the shooters were police and you know what happened — they lost one of the casings. They lost it on the way over to Jeff Parish ballistics lab," Terry tells him. "What do you mean?" the agent asks. "It didn't get there. They disappeared the motherfucker. And the funny thing is it wasn't from Abreu. I lied. Both casings were from Seals. But they thought I was going somewhere with it so they disappeared the shit like they've been doin' all along, the motherfuckers. Jimmy, you guys have to come in and clean house," Terry tells the agent. "I'll do what I can," Collington says.
Nelson and Arnie have met for drinks at Irvin Mayfield's Jazz Playhouse located inside The Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. Currently performing are Aurora Nealand & The Royal Roses, but while Nelson usually grooves to about anything he's not musically inclined tonight. "I'm fucked," he tells his cousin. "I come to town, make friends, got a kind word for everybody, doin' what I do, makin' what I can, get it done. Now, cuz, I could go to fuckin' jail," Nelson rants before taking a big drink. "What? Why?" Arnie asks. "Don't you get it? The Feds rolled somebody up on Oliver Thomas, the councilman I was working with. Now Thomas, he could roll me up," Nelson explains. "With what?" a confused Arnie presses. "With bullshit. I gave the guy a little cash for the cable thing, remember? I did right by him," Nelson insists as he sucks down more liquor. Arnie asks his cousin if that's the way his business works in Dallas. "Everywhere, cuz. Everywhere," Hidalgo semi-belches in response. "Nelson, let me ask you somethin'. What do you do?" The inebriated Nelson looks puzzled, either that he's been asked or that he can't really give a good answer. "I do deals. I make money," he finally comes up with as a response, but that doesn't satisfy Arnie who asks again, "But what do you make? What is it that you do?" Arnie goes on to say that when he's working as a bouncer, he knows what his responsibilities are that come with the job and when he's working on a house, he's putting on a roof. "I do a deal. Something gets done," Nelson says. "This real estate thing, I'll let you in on a secret. They're gonna build a hospital. That's why we're buying up houses." That's the first specific mention we've heard of the hospital that's been speculated on ever since C.J. drew on that map. Arnie asks him about the hospital everyone tells him about that they won't re-open. Nelson snickers. "OK. Well this will be a new hospital, better hospital maybe." After Arnie makes a suggestion and compares what he thinks Nelson should do to what Arnie does as a roofer and Nelson gives him that sarcastic applause and Arnie takes off. Nelson raises a glass to his mouth.# Back at the Jazz Playhouse, Nelson continues to drink alone while Aurora Nealand and her band have switched from the instrumental tune they played before to a song she's singing. Nelson puts his coat on and tries to leave, but it's not an easy walk and he almost falls on another table. We could tell Nelson was blotto before and the scene is so short that Arnie could have left and Nelson could have stayed a little longer if we needed to see him stumble. The band could have been doing that number earlier. Again, it's a short scene that I'm not objecting to because of its length but because it's needless.
At The Lucky Peach, David Chang lowers a drink from his mouth and covers his eyes. Janette approaches. "I can't believe I've got to ask this, but I have to go back to New Orleans for a couple of days," she says. I don't know why. I thought that was part of any job she had in a New York kitchen — she's allowed to have time off to return to New Orleans at a moment's notice whenever she wants. "Back to New Orleans," Chang repeats, rubbing his hands together. "I know — I'm an asshole," Janette declares. Hovering in the air over her left shoulder, Chef Ripert unfurls his glorious wings and emits a blinding white light in Chang's direction. "Doin' this to help out your sous chef, you're doin' what you have to do," Chang tells her. "On the other hand, if you're going back home because there's some dudes who are trying to poach you from my kitchen and help
you set up your own shop, then yes, you're an asshole." "Maird! The cynicism is too strong in this one," St. Ripert exclaims before vanishing in the bright light. "You heard," she says. "It's a small world, chef," Chang tells her. Meanwhile, in New Orleans, a stranger enters the office of C.J. Liguori. "Hello sir. My name is Enrico Brulard. I heard there are some properties up for auction in your Central Business District and I'm thinking of relocating my famous New York restaurant here. It seems we lost a lot of business when Alan Richman gave us a scathing review because a native of your city through a Sazerac in his face while he was there to review us and I hear she's coming back here to try launch her own eatery." "I don't know if I'm gonna jump — I really don't. I'm happy here. In your kitchen, I am, I'm happy," Janette tells him. "But homesick," Chang says. "That too. Look, this guy wants to show me a couple of locations…but I don't know what I want to do, I really don't," she admits. Chang pours himself another drink and Janette one as well. "Well, if you go home, go with God. I'm sure you'll not be back, but if you stay here," he says as he flips her off with both hands, "be happy with your work. By the way, I'm holdin' on to that chicken dish. Cheers." He raises his glass to Janette and she returns the gesture and they clink glasses. I've spent so much time complaining about this storyline that I forgot my biggest one: What a waste of Kim Dickens' talents. In those first four episodes with Brulard, she had something to do, but since then, nothing. Hopefully, next season she'll get Grade A material again as she did in Season 1. I sensed something sinister about her new restaurant's backer, so perhaps there will be conflict there. Hopefully, he'll have a name before next season begins other than Backer.Jazz Fest has officially arrived and Annie and Davis are trying to plot out their day on the schedule. Davis wants to make sure he catches Deacon John and then he's curious about this show Donald Harrison is doing with the Guardians because he's heard rumors they're working on an album together. Annie wants to make sure she sees the subdudes, who she toured with at the beginning of the season. Davis has a panic attack when he realizes that he forgot to bring any weed.
At another part of the various venues, Antoine, Desiree and little Honoré wait in line for a show when Antoine greets Troy "Trombone Shorty" Andrews. Andrews looks at how the baby hits at everything and comments, "Looks like we got a little drummer here. Look at her go — hittin' everything on the one like a little Willie Green. Antoine says he was hoping for piano. He asks Troy if he's playing Jazz Fest, but Andrews is just catching some shows before he rolls out to Japan. Seems he's touring with Henry Butler like Antoine had the chance to but didn't take.
Toni brings what she knows about the Abreu and Seals cases and possible coverups to the Feds including the same FBI Special Agent Collington that Colson gave the files to as well as a first deputy U.S. attorney (Trey Burvant). "Needless to say with the open investigations and exclusion of public records, I can't go any further, but you all can," she tells them. The deputy U.S. attorney says they certainly will review her allegations. Collington asks if the witness she's identified would be willing to testify before a grand jury, "If it's clear you guys are bringing a real investigation and can ensure his safety, I think he will come forward," Toni tells them. "At this point, anything we say further would be premature," the deputy U.S. attorney says. "You know, this office has a lot on its plate and this is the first we're hearing of any civil rights issues involving the NOPD." Toni gets up to leave. "Maybe after the next election," she comments, passing photos of Dubya of Cheney on the wall as she exits.
Albert gets his big moment in the spotlight, taking the stage at Jazz Fest with Del, Donald Harrison, Harrison's musicians and the Congo Square Nation. Albert has been smiling so much the past couple of episodes, he doesn't even resemble the man at the beginning of this season. In the audience, we see James Woodrow, Dana Lyndsey and her cameraman shooting more footage, Annie and Davis, who seems to be enjoying it
despite lacking any marijuana intake. The whole crowd seems to get it, despite any worries with one enthusiastic audience member doing a spirited dance in the front row. Albert Lambreaux's storyline doesn't need to have a straight-line, season-long story arc because he's fortunate enough to be played by Clarke Peters and watching him do anything usually proves to be more than enough. Whether he's being kicked out of Hoke's, doing odd jobs, denying that he's depressed, getting screwed by the bureaucracy again and again, losing faith in the only thing that matters to him or finding renewed life in a musical project that brings him closer to his son. Getting laid with a much younger woman probably isn't hurting anything either. Sure, he's a stubborn son of a bitch at times, but with a wink he'll let you know that part of that demeanor is just for show. Peters can be just as great with silence as he is with words and, much like his fellow Wire alumnus Wendell Pierce, you don't see any Lester Freamon in Albert Lambreaux (except maybe when Albert concentrates on sewing you can picture Lester with his models) as you don't spot signs of Bunk Moreland in Antoine Batiste. Peters' talent can be so subtle, sometime you just take them for granted because he isn't showy and unfortunately too often that's where the bias falls in acting awards falls. I never remember who said it about the Oscars, but it applies to all awards: The prize usually goes not to who acted the best but who acted the most.Sofia greets her mom — and sounds friendly doing it for a change — as she sits on the porch. "Oh, first day of Jazz Fest, eh," Toni says since they can hear the music from their house. "Shame you're grounded," she adds as she sits next to her daughter. "I did what I did," Sofia says nonchalantly. Toni asks where the blue streaks in Sofia's hair went, admitting that she was sort of getting used to it. Sofia admits that Oliver Thomas' situation saddens her. "He would have been a good mayor. Then again, he did take the money," the teen says. "Seems
so," her mom sighs. There's a moment of awkward silence between the two, then Toni restarts the conversation. "Folks just doubt ourselves. Sometimes we're better than ourselves, sometimes we're worse. Sometimes we please. Sometimes we disappoint. I don't know. I guess we're not really talking about Oliver Thomas anymore," Toni declares. "I still love him." Sofia says. "I always will. But I can't forgive him." Toni nods slightly, almost like a shake. "I know. Yet anyway," she manages a smile. Sofia closes her eyes and nods. Melissa Leo illustrates what I was just saying about Clarke Peters. She's nothing short of magnificent on Treme, as she was on Homicide: Life on the Street, the recent HBO miniseries of Mildred Pierce and her Oscar-nominated performance in Frozen River. While she also was good in The Fighter, the film that won her the Oscar last year for best supporting actress, it differed from those other roles in that it was a chew-the-scenery, over-the-top turn. Awards voters usually want to see proof that you are acting before they hand you a prize. Subtlety and humanity of the type Leo displays so beautifully and remarkably on every episode of Treme usually escapes their notice. Idiots. As Toni, she can crack you up or break your heart, often in a short span of time. I've praised her so much all season long, I almost feel as if there isn't anything to add. As for India Ennenga, I have to admit that my jury hasn't returned a verdict. I don't think she's bad in any way, I just can't decide if she's exceptional. She can play bratty and not bratty, but often to me it seems as if those are the only two keys she has. I'm reserving judgment for now.Wanda has hit a stage at Jazz Fest with her own band, A Taste of New Orleans. Antoine watches from the crowd with discouragement and Wanda blows him a kiss.
The Capt. John returns to dock in Chalmette. Linh's father invites Sonny to get a beer.
Davis has a new look when he shows up for a gig with The Brassy Knoll. He looks quite preppy and sports a green sweater wrapped around his neck and holds a martini in his right hand. I wonder who he picked up that affectation from? The band asks what's up with the outfit and he ignores that question, instead ordering a big change in set, calling for James Brown's "Sex Machine" in G. Davis addresses the audience. "It has come to my attention that someone of my disposition cannot in fact bring the funk. There are those that say, 'Davis, are you not aware that you are from uptown? Well then, in my final performance with The Brassy Knoll, which will no doubt go on to great things in my absence, please allow me to offer the following in my defense." He sets down the martini and begins a nerdy rendition of "Sex Machine."# After that brief layover, we're back and Davis has gone into full Godfather of Soul mode now, spinning wildly on stage. He drops the sweater to the ground and then aping Brown, Calliope picks it up and wraps it around him like Brown's cape, only he doesn't lead him off stage because Davis isn't done yet. In the audience, Mimi and Annie laugh. Davis sings some more lyrics and then says, "Good luck to Calliope and The Brassy Knoll…I'm DJ Davis and I am out." He jumps off stage and hugs Annie and Mimi. Don B. leaps on stage and he and Lil Calliope begin "The True."
At Cafe Trinh Quyen, while other members of New Orleans East's Vietnamese community eat, talk and enjoy karaoke, Sonny and Linh's father look as if they are having a serious discussion over beers. How many episodes has Linh's father been on now. If they knew he would figure this prominently into the story, why not give the poor man a first name? Sonny spots Linh walking in first, then her dad turns and notices. He crosses his arms and looks stern, but nods. Sonny goes and joins Linh while her father points two fingers to his eyes and then aims them at Sonny.
Antoine picks up Robert at his house and his mother (Shirley Pugh) insists that he be home by 11 p.m. Batiste assures her that won't be a problem. As they walk off, Antoine tells Robert they'll have to rehearse all day first.
On the second day of Jazz Fest, Jacques wraps his arms around Janette as they dance to The Iguanas playing "Oye Isabel" on the Fais Do Do (English translation: Cajun dance party) Stage.# Jacques and Janette keep dancing to The Iguanas for a few more seconds of screentime, though they've miraculously had times to switch songs to what might be Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" but I can't be certain since the only line you hear is "How does it feel?"
On the Acura Stage, Lucinda Williams sings her far mellower song "Crescent City" which Davis and Annie swoon to appropriately.# The Iguanas had time in that short span to finish one song and get well through another, but Lucinda Williams still is singing "Crescent City," a song that runs three minutes. In contrast, "Oye Isabel" runs 4:32 and if it is Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone," that whopper goes past the six-minute mark. Davis tells Annie that it's amazing that Williams wrote "Crescent City" before the storm. Harley taught Annie well as she tells him, "It's universal. That's what makes it great."
As Jacques and Janette walk along a line of vendors, she tells him it's not really Jazz Fest without a bowl of Crawfish Monica, which she's currently consuming. "Janette," Davis yells as he runs up and hugs her. She and Annie finally are formally introduced. Davis asks why she's back and she tells him she's looking at restaurant properties. "You're punchin' a little bit out of your weight class, aren't you Davis?" Janette says. "I always did," he responds. I believe she's referring to Annie, but I also thought she might be making a reference to him gaining weight. Was it just me or in the "Sex Machine" scene in this episode did Steve Zahn look as if he had a noticeable paunch that he didn't have in any of the other epiaodes this year? I know from my interview with Kim Dickens that they stay in New Orleans to shoot a season for seven months and I wonder if they had breaks to wait to get the Jazz Fest scenes Zahn may have gained some weight for another role during the hiatus.
Antoine assembles Robert and other students from the class band on a spot on the street with their instruments. They start to play, but he stops them, saying they forgot something. Robert opens his instrument case. "There ya go," Antoine says. "You gotta seed that shit some." Batiste tosses some bills and coins into the case. The kids start playing and immediately earn tips and spectators. Denard comes running to join them, showing up late in sunglasses. "Denard, I'm gonna fine ya, son," Antoine tells him. Then Antoine joins the kids and plays himself as well.
Davis and Annie are in bed and she starts mumbling as if she's having a bad dream again, but she doesn't wake up this time, only Davis does. He kisses her on the cheek.
Even though she's grounded, Toni takes Sofia to The Maple Leaf to hear the Rebirth Brass Brand. The woman at the door questions Sofia's age, but Toni promises she won't be drinking. Mother and daughter are holding hands, almost skipping. Sofia tells her mom that she's going up front to be closer to the band and Toni nods OK and they hug, Joining the band on stage is trumpeter James Andrews.
Davis wanders into the booth at WWOZ where DJ Jeffy Jeff is barely awake while working the late shift. Davis tells him he can't sleep, but Jeff says he's dying for a nap. "How's the band?" Jeff asks. By Davis' look, he gets his answer. "You think Darnell takes me back on?" Davis wonders. "When has he not?" Jeff replies. Davis tells Jeff that if he wants to lie down on the lobby's couch, he'll spin a set for him and the disc jockey takes him up on it. Davis takes to the air. "That was — actually, I'm not sure." He looks around the desk and sees a CD case. "Kidd Jordan, I think. But this is DJ Davis workin' relief for Jeffy Jeff. Anyway New Orleans, we're all still here. A few more alone every day." He removes a CD from its case and prepares to load it. "And even if it isn't as it
should be, even if they make it hard, where else would we go? Who else would have us? Yeah, you right. Let Pops tell it." As "Wrap Your Trouble in Dreams Begins," so does the season finale montage. It looks as if Desiree finally got Antoine to get her that house and they are moving in. Annie is writing a song, not certain if it's completing one of Harley's, but it's titled "Dauphine Street." GiGi's is back in business and LaDonna, with a cute, short haircut, serves Larry a hot dog at the bar. This requires more explanation: Terry is back in uniform. This doesn't: He bumps into Toni coming out of a coffee shop and she gives him a dirty look and ignores him. The Backer Without a Name takes Janette on a tour of one of the potential sites for her restaurant. Nelson stares through the barbed wire fence surrounding the vacant Mid-City site where the hospital will rise; Sonny shares beers and laughs with Don
and the other oystermen. At her job, Sofia reads The Times-Picayune story on Oliver's guilty plea and resignation. (This montage must cover some span of time since the story was ending in late April but Thomas didn't plead guilty until August.) Del helps Albert with some of his home repairs. Harley's memorial on the Washington Square fence is there, but has deteriorated with lots of litter on the ground below it. Crime tape cordons off another murder victim and Prioleau and another detective already are having a good chuckle before they even get to the body. We see various scenes of desolation that still remain this long after Katrina. A guitar stands for sale at the musician's union for $60 or best offer. I wonder if it's Sonny's or could it be Davis'? A hand grabs a tip. What looks like Mardi Gras beads hang from a tree. The song ends and we're back to Davis, who doesn't seem to notice it stopped playing."Sorry for the dead air, but that one got me," he tells the listeners as he plays another track and the Rebirth Brass Band's "Do Whatcha Wanna" runs over the credits.I'll cease with the italics now, since all of this is commentary and there won't be much since the majority of it has been sprinkled throughout this post and all the recaps this season. If you'd like to consult any of the old ones, go to my handy Treme index which can be found in the Television index in the left-hand column of the front page. Earlier this year, I addressed a lot of my criticisms in Time for an intervention. It's hard to deny that by most measures, the second season was weaker than the first. Last year, nearly every episode as a whole was superb. This year, with the exceptions of "Everything I Do Gohn Be Funky," "Santa Claus, Do You Ever Get the Blues?" "Feels Like Rain," "Carnival Time" and "What Is New Orleans?" (and honestly, I'm being generous with all but the first two and "Carnival Time"), most episodes were great moments surrounded by filler and missed opportunities.
While I've concentrated most of my criticism on the microscenes and scenes we leave only to come right back to after an interim, that problem boils down to this season having severe structural problems. Some episodes really did play as if that week's scenes were thrown up in the air and then edited into a random order. I know that David Simon likes to speak of a philosophy where each character is of an equal importance, but that hasn't even been true this year. David Morse was absent from an entire episode and in the season's most misdirected, poorly arranged installment, "On Your Way Down," when LaDonna's rape occurred, Annie appeared for 70 seconds total and for a seven-minute stretch, it alternated between LaDonna (whose story we cared about) and Sonny (whose story we didn't). No other character appeared in this time. It's also possible to have a large cast drama and get everybody in without resorting to tiny scenes. Hell, Hill Street Blues did that 30 years ago and they had to work in commercials. Treme doesn't.
When writing season three, everyone who works on Treme needs to remember that the best moments of this season, the ones we remember best, are the ones where their talented cast was allowed to flourish. "Let Bourbon Street Be Bourbon Street"; the Thanksgiving montage; Toni and Sofia talking openly about Creighton's suicide; "Listen to your fish"; Dinerral's funeral; Antoine's regret while lying in bed; LaDonna tearing into the ADA; Albert at Christmas dinner, etc. I will remember those a year from now. I won't recall Sofia gets on an elevator; Toni wakes up on a couch; Colson slits open the bottom of an evidence bag or many other scenes that ran less than 45 seconds, sometimes as short as 15. There is one short scene all season I will remember: When Antoine gets out of the cab for the job interview at the school, sees the throng of kids and retreats back inside the taxi and drives off. That's good use of a short scene. It's funny and accomplishes what it needs to do. It needs no more, no less. So many of the other scenes were either expendable or needed to be fleshed out.
I still love the show, I just find myself yelling, wishing that somehow I had access to their post-production facilities so I could stop them before they mistakes. Treme has a great cast, great writers, employs great directors — there's nothing stopping it from getting better and better except for these bad structural decisions. You've got the third season — these problems are very fixable.
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Labels: Awards, Clarke Peters, D. Morse, David Simon, Dylan, E. Ashley, HBO, Kim Dickens, Melissa Leo, Oscars, The Wire, Treme, TV Recap, Wendell Pierce, Zahn
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Friday, June 17, 2011
14 Questions for Kim Dickens
By Edward Copeland
As frustrating and annoying as it can be at times, in the end, you have to love the development of social media. If it didn't exist, I'd never have been able to have a virtual friendship with actress Kim Dickens that developed over a couple of years and she would never have agreed to do an email interview with me that I could post as the second season of HBO's Treme, where she portrays chef Janette Desautel, winds down. (This season's final three episodes debut the next three Sundays at 10 p.m. Eastern/9 p.m. Central.) The series already has been renewed for a third season, so Treme and Janette shall be returning. That's good news for both fans of the series and the talented actress. It's also worth noting that these questions were written and submitted after the fifth episode, when Janette had walked out on her job at the fictional New York restaurant Brulard but had yet to start work at the real restaurant Le Bernardin.
Dickens hails from the South, Huntsville, Ala., to be exact. (Her birthday happens to be Saturday.) She first came to my attention on another great HBO series, Deadwood, and I "friended" her based on that, before Treme had even aired. I didn't know she was in it until I saw the first episode. All I really knew about Treme was that it was co-created by David Simon who had co-created HBO's The Wire, one of my all-time favorite dramas (arguably the best that's ever been). However, Dickens been working in a lot of other places, recently and further back, that I didn't catch her in. Having not watched either show, I didn't realize she had parts on Lost and Friday Night Lights. I did catch her in the surprise box office hit that won Sandra Bullock her Oscar, The Blind Side, but I didn't realize her other films included the 1998 Great Expectations (Dickens does Dickens), Hollow Man, House of Sand and Fog and Thank You for Smoking. Soon she'll be seen in the Footloose remake.
When Dickens played Joanie Stubbs on David Milch's late, great, poetically profane and prematurely buried Deadwood. Joanie began as the handler of the whores for Cy Tolliver (Powers Boothe) at his gambling palace The Bella Luna before she eventually talked him into backing her own brothel where she served as madam. Unfortunately, being a manager had its drawbacks, especially when one of your customers turns out to be a well-connected psycho who works for George Hearst and tends to slaughter your employees. Even more tragically, arguments between HBO, Milch and the production company over financing and other issues ended Deadwood after a mere three seasons, instead of Milch's projected five-season run. For awhile, there was talk that HBO would back the filming of two, two-hour Deadwood movies to give the series something resembling a proper sendoff, but that never happened.
EDWARD COPELAND: Do you still wish those two two-hour Deadwood movies could be made to wrap it up since the show ended so unnecessarily and prematurely?
KIM DICKENS: Yes, I do. I'm pretty sure all of us would be happy to do those movies, even now. It was such a disservice to the beautiful art of Deadwood to not let that story finish. It still hurts.
Of course, more than just centuries separate Joanie Stubbs and Janette Desautel but as much as all the characters on Deadwood let the curse words fly, Joanie's mouth seemed slightly cleaner than the other denizens in that western town. In fact, I theorized in one of my recaps of Treme this year, that Janette might actually swear more than Joanie did.
EC: I raised the idea that Janette might actually cuss more often than Joanie Stubbs. We don’t have an equal amount of episodes yet to compare but since you read the lines, what do you think?
KD: That's what I said to David Simon and (co-creator) Eric Overmyer…I thought I just may curse more in Treme than I did in Deadwood. Hard to imagine, but it may be true!
While Dickens no longer lives in Huntsville, she still has relatives who do. Fortunately, the destructive tornado that struck the city earlier this year didn't affect them, but Huntsville has a long history of tragic tornadic activity, including when Dickens was growing up there.
EC: Your relatives in your native Huntsville, Ala., were thankfully unscathed by the recent tornadoes, but Huntsville did see some big ones while you were growing up. While none came close to the scale of Katrina’s aftermath, did any of those storms give you personal insight going into Treme?
KD: No, not other than being familiar with weather becoming an annual threat during particular seasons. Growing up in tornado country, I definitely experienced some frightening weather conditions and close calls but was spared any real destruction. I no longer live there, but my family does and my heart has been broken for all of the lost lives and for all of the destruction in so many Southern and Midwestern towns.
EC: Before taking the role of Janette, did you have much interest in serious cooking? Have you learned a lot, especially this year with Anthony Bourdain on staff?
KD: I have definitely learned a lot during all of the kitchen and cooking training that i have done for Treme. My cooking has definitely improved, and I'll be honest and say I was a just the basics kind of a cook. And now, I may have a little more confidence. Unfortunately I haven't worked one on one with Mr. Bourdain. I have however been trained at two of Tom Colicchio 's Craft restaurants, Susan Spicer's Bayona, and one afternoon at Providence in L.A. Also, on set during the scenes we have our own consulting chef, Chris Lynch, on hand at all times. The training is ongoing and will remain so. It's not easy making something like shucking oysters look like you've been doing it for 10 years or so!
EC: What do you think Janette is searching for in life? This year, we’ve seen her engage in one-night stands with strangers and possibly drinking a bit more than she should.
KD: Well, I'm not sure what Janette is searching for in life, but I know she loves to cook. She's driven to do it, against all odds. And cooking and being a chef, I've come to understand is a very noble profession. Chefs and kitchen staffs work long, hard hours. AND, I've heard that sometimes the hard road of being a cook can lead to lots of drinking and a sometimes pathetic love life. I think Janette was having one of those moments this season.
EC: As flighty as he is, do you think Janette harbors deeper feelings for Davis than she’d admit? That seemed to be a particularly wistful grin she had when she read his note with the box of booze.
KD: I think they had a nice understanding those two, a real friends with benefits kind of a situation. And I think as annoyed as Janette could get with Davis, she could also be very charmed and humored by him. I think it's clear those characters are fond of each other with no resentments left over.
EC: Wendell Pierce mentioned how so many stories are separate that he really doesn’t know what everyone’s doing until he sees a completed episode and feels as if he doesn’t know some in the cast. Janette seems to be the character who has interacted with more of the ensemble than any other person. In two episodes in a row this season, you shared scenes with both Lambreaux men, Albert and Delmond (Clarke Peters and Rob Brown). Are there any characters Janette hasn’t met yet, other than Jon Seda’s new one, or ones you’d like to work with either for the first time or in a larger way?
KD: I want to work with Khandi Alexander (LaDonna) this year! i love her character and she's just a fabulous person. Oh and also Elizabeth Ashley (Aunt Mimi). She's the original Maggie the Cat…I love her (from Tennessee Williams' Cat on a Hot Tin Roof). I'm so glad I get to cross paths with some of our other main characters, I really love it. I especially love that scene with Clarke this year. I don't know why, it just felt so "by chance," these strangers who were in sync. But I hope I cross with Khandi soon. And by the way, not only is Rob Brown handsome, he's hilarious.
EC: How odd did it feel to be on the set in Louisiana pretending to be in New York when everyone else’s scenes were set in New Orleans?
KD: Not strange at all, I've been doing that kind of stuff for years. Just part of the job. one set is a NY apartment and the next set is a New Orleans radio station. That's filmmaking. It probably felt more odd to be a character on the show and actually shooting a lot of scenes IN New York away from the rest of the cast.
EC: Victor Slezak created such a great, frightening character in Enrico Brulard, was his role one of those where it’s difficult to just be yourselves when the cameras were off for fear somehow that would lessen the tension when the cameras came on again?
KD: Victor was so wonderful and so prepared and is such a terrific actor. Everyone works differently, but he was easy and able to just relax and talk in between takes and scenes. We had a couple of moments where we broke up laughing during some takes, but that happens…and it's always a nice jolt of energy and a challenge to your focus.
EC: Acting is such an uncertain profession in terms of employment, how did you react when you got the word that Treme had been renewed for a third season?
KD: I was just overjoyed. It's a relief to know you have a job to come back to and it's so exciting to know I get to come back and be a part of such a meaningful show.
EC: How long do you stay in New Orleans when Treme is shooting? Where is home when you aren’t shooting the show?
KD: We shoot the show for about seven months in New Orleans. And my home is in Los Angeles.
EC: While Treme has shown what a diverse selection of music exists in New Orleans, do you have particular musical tastes or are you more eclectic?
KD: I'm a country girl, so I like a lot of country music. But I recently did an interview for The Onion where you put your iPod on shuffle and discuss the 10 songs that randomly come up. Turns out my musical taste is pretty diverse.
Treme almost wasn't Dickens' second HBO series to air following Deadwood. She'd been cast in a comedy called 12 Miles of Bad Road starring Lily Tomlin, Mary Kay Place, Gary Cole and even her Deadwood co-star Sean Bridgers (he was Al's dimwitted worker Johnny). Its executive producers were Harry Thomason and Linda Bloodworth-Thomason of Designing Women fame. Bloodworth-Thomason co-wrote the series, six episodes were filmed and HBO even aired promos touting its eventual premiere, but it never aired.
EC: What happened with 12 Miles of Bad Road? It had such a notable cast and producers. I’ve never heard of a series that filmed six episodes before a decision was made not to air it.
KD: I think it boils down to bad timing. The show was brilliant and really, really funny and subversive. We shot six and then the writer's strike happened, which lasted about three-four months I think. During that time, they decided to let us go. Our show had begun under the previous head of HBO, so sometimes shows get tossed aside for the new boss's ideas and shows. It happens a lot. Another artistic disservice! Here's the old trailer:
EC: Do you have anything planned during the hiatus that you’d like to mention?
KD: Right now, I'm taking a little vacation. Nothing is scheduled at the moment. But, if the right thing comes along, I'll jump on.
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Labels: Clarke Peters, David Simon, Deadwood, E. Ashley, HBO, Interview, Kim Dickens, Lily Tomlin, Lost, Milch, Overmyer, Remakes, Television, Tennessee Williams, The Wire, Treme, Wendell Pierce
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Sunday, May 15, 2011
Treme No. 14: Santa Claus, Do You Ever Get the Blues?
BLOGGER'S NOTE: This recap contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen the episode yet, move along.
By Edward Copeland
Alas Enrico Brulard, we hardly knew ye. Victor Slezak's wonderful portrayal of the mad Manhattan chef likely will not be seen after this episode. From now on, we listen to our fish by ourselves. However, Treme fans can take comfort in the news reported by the great Dave Walker in the Times-Picayune on Friday that HBO has renewed the series for a third season. As far as tonight's particular episode, with a story by co-creator Eric Overmyer and story editor Lolis Eric Elie, a teleplay by Elie and direction by Alex Zakrzewski, I also can report positive developments: It is a resounding improvement over the disappointment of last week's episode with its collection of nothing but short scenes. This week's outing illustrates how much better the rhythm of a production plays when the length of its scenes vary widely. The pacing of last night's episode made it really engaging and more like the Treme I love. In the interest of full disclosure, Mr. Elie has once again helped me immeasurably with names of actors, characters, places and even an exact quote and he's become a valued
resource for me and I'm quite grateful. However, don't view our email relationship as any sign of bias when I praise the writing of this episode. It's damn good, but I'd tell you if I thought otherwise. In the years when I used to do movie junkets, no matter how plush the hotel and goodies, they never skewed my reviews. I will, however, plug Mr. Elie's Inside Treme blog. It's the least I can do. By the way, he did write a great episode, my second favorite of the season. PERSONAL NOTE: You probably can't tell from this recap, but I've done my best to try to condense these posts because they grow so incredibly long, but I can't help myself. This week, I made some progress by not summarizing ALL scenes, but then I undermined myself by becoming obsessed with Internet sleuthing (probably a byproduct of my net-free hospital exile) and when I'd hear or see a name or place in the episode, I'd end up finding details and adding them as text, links, even art. To make matters worse, when I was nearly finished Thursday, after getting a late start because of last weekend's hospital stay, Blogger crashed. When it returned nearly 20 hours later, two-thirds of my recap was lost and I had to re-create the bulk of what I'd done. (Fortunately, while Blogger was down, I completed the remaining writing on Word so I could just copy and paste when Blogger returned.) I put A LOT of work into this week's recap (on antibiotics and pain killers and fighting the usual M.S. fatigue no less), so I hope the entire recap gets read closely and not skimmed. I don't usually brag on myself (in fact, I lean toward self-deprecation and tend to be overcritical of my work), but I think this is the best recap of any episode of any show I have ever done. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did constructing it. I would sleep now for three days, but I'm already behind working on the recap for the fifth episode of the season.
Despite the great sight gag of Antoine retreating to the safety of a cab in order to duck the interview for the assistant band director job at Theophile Jones Elie Elementary (named after this episode's writer's late grandfather), Desiree rescheduled it (citing his inability of a cab to get him there on time) and the musician reluctantly shows this time, trying his best to talk his way out of the job as the school's band director Darren LeCoeur (Keith Hart, a band director in real life) leads him through the halls in a long tracking shot. Antoine mentions his band and how they gig a lot could have road tours that would take precedence over this job. LeCoeur says he understands. Antoine asks when they start working on the marching, but the band director informs him there is no marching band because the students have neither uniforms nor instruments. LeCoeur
says that will come eventually but for now it's just three classes a day assisting him. Antoine suggests making it part-time or if LeCoeur needs full-time, Antoine says he could give him names. LeCoeur says they'll make it work since the principal has already signed off on the paperwork and he can start work immediately. "You know about my criminal history, right?" Antoine mentions, getting desperate. "Misdemeanors or felonies?" LeCoeur responds. Antoine replies misdemeanors but the band director already is heading into the classroom and doesn't seem particularly interested in the answer. When they finally get to the class Antoine, apparently so preoccupied in the long walk that he didn't hear LeCouer tell him that they lacked instruments, asks why so few have horns. "We are on 'The instruments are coming' program," LeCouer tells him. LeCoeur says until then, they are working on reading rhythms. Antoine rolls his eyes. Wendell Pierce really provides the heart and soul of Treme and what a fun way to begin: a well-written, very well-directed scene that ran longer than all but one scene of last week's episode, an episode which had no touches as nice as Zakrzewski's tracking shot.Davis tries out part of his "hip-hop opus" that he's composed for his friend Simply Red (Henry Griffin, who essentially is playing himself as he is a friend of Davis Rogan, the McAlary inspiration, and that's his real nickname). After sounding out the "hook" with his mouth and turning on the beat, McAlary starts reciting:
A desire to do good and a four point oh
You're here to save us from our plight
You got the answer 'cause you're rich and white
On a two-year sojourn here to stay
Teach for America all the way
Got no idea what you're facin'
No clue just who you're displacin'
Old lady taught fathers, old lady taught sons
Old lady bought books for the little ones
Old lady put in 30 years
Sweat and toil, time and tears
Was that really your sad intention?
Help the state of Louisiana deny her pension
"Hell to the no. Turn it off," Simply Red interrupts. Davis asks what the problem is and Red informs him that, for one thing, it was the state of Louisiana that fired all the teachers not Teach for America. "A scab is a scab is a scab," Davis replies. "Track 3 of my hip-hop opus addresses the hidden social cost of education reform." Simply Red takes a sip of his beer and says, "Davis, we're white guys. Deal with it." McAlary tells him it's a work in progress.
The death of Joey Abreu has become for Toni Bernette like the proverbial bone to the dog: She's not letting this one go. She's managed to locate one of the so-called "looters" who witnessed the events in Robideaux's that day. "The fuckin' cops went buck wild for nothin'," the man (Stephen Lewis) tells her as they walk along a sidewalk. "I mean we was in there trying to get food and water to keep from fuckin' dyin'…All these cops come in there hollerin', 'Get out. Y'all All y'all, get your ass out' People lookin' at them like, 'Man, we tryin' to survive', know
what I mean? And they just and went and gone upside motherfuckers' heads like it wasn't no thing." Always wanting her facts clarified and straight, Toni asks back if the man had just told her that cops went inside the store and were beating people. It seems every new person she meets changes the picture of what happened at Robideaux's. The man tells her the cops were inside and outside, chasing people down the street. Toni shows him the photo of Joey and asks if he saw him that day, but he doesn't recognize him. Toni then asks if he knew any of the officers and that gets the man quiet and fast. The most he offers is that "They looked like — cops." They stand within sight of the 1st District station house and she asks if he recognized any from there. He adamantly tells her he's not testifying against the police. "You remember that cop that kicked a man to death in Treme — in broad daylight — about a month before the storm — in front of witnesses? Yeah, he still around," the man says. Toni pleads that she's trying to find out what happened to Joey. "Someone shot him," she tells him. The man says he didn't hear any shots.
In the hollowed-out shell of Albert's house, a documentary filmmaker named Dana Lyndsey (Yolanda Ross) examines Albert's Indian dress suit from last year, admiring the intricacy of the beadwork. "My film is all about rebuilding — the city and the culture — and you know 'em both." Albert turns from Dana, defiant that she can't film him working on his house or his new suit. Dana asks why. "You'll have to wait until I come out on Carnival day," Albert informs her, a slight growing tone of anger in his voice. "I don't reveal myself no sooner, no later, no nothing. Come Mardi Gras, take pictures of the street and get in line." Dana tells him that she's interested in the process, not the result. Albert's ire speaks fully throated now, "The process don't matter if you don't have no result. Process — shit. The process is just a lot of damn hard work."
In New York, Delmond and Jill are spending an evening in his apartment when he plays the "Tom Cat Blues" track off Milestone's Jelly Roll Morton 1923/24, which contains all of Morton's Gennett piano solos.* "I just can't see anyone listening to this — not this century," Jill admits to Delmond, riling Lambreuax. "Now that's fucked up. You take a classical orchestra. Anything from Bach to Stravinsky — 300 years of music — is standard repertoire, right? But in jazz, Jelly Roll Morton is considered prehistoric." Jill says Morton sounds prehistoric to her. "I'm sorry Del, I'm just not hearing it. Listening to this, I just see brothers toting barges and lifting
bales," she says. Delmond defends the work because it once was popular music and he's just trying to figure out what elements made this music popular back then. "This is what I want to capture," he tells her. During season one, I didn't quite get the point of Del's character, but I wrote that I could imagine David Simon and Eric Overmeyer having a plan for him and I think that's become clearer early in season two. Delmond may come from New Orleans, but in a way he's the audience surrogate, serving as tour guide. He's also slowly losing his initial cynicism about his hometown and discovering its cultural worth just as hopefully those naysayers who said things like "Don't rebuild" after Katrina eyes might have opened as Del's have. In a later scene in the episode, we find Delmond alone in his apartment, listening to an old recording of Jelly Roll Morton talking about Indian history in Mardi Gras in New Orleans while he's sewing what appears to be the start of an Indian suit. Now, Del's also serving as a surrogate teacher for those unfamiliar with jazz and its history. Yes, Delmond Lambreaux belongs in the Treme ensemble and Rob Brown has played his slow transition so subtly and well, it's been easy to miss the essence of his acting accomplishment."Davis, I don't know the slightest thing about the music business." Aunt Mimi, that martini glass still soldered to her right hand, sits at a bar with her nephew, who is pitching her the idea of helping him launch a record label. "I do," Davis insists. (Of course, he would.) He suggest the label's first release should be a sampler with
seven or eight artists, each contributing a track or two. The artists would represent a variety of New Orleans styles — rap, bounce, bands — and then "my thang," McAlary explains. "Your thing?" Mimi questions. That even raises the lovable lush's eyebrow. "When worlds collide. I'm gonna put a straight funk rhythm section together but then drop some brass on top and throw a little hip-hop flow into it," Davis enthuses before trying to give an example. "Kinda like Galactic has its way with the Hot 8's front line before sleeping around with Lil Wayne." Elizabeth Ashley's expressions as Mimi truly are priceless. Davis may as well be speaking Klingon. "Trust me," he tells her, "I'm going to take New Orleans music where it's never gone before." Mimi gets back to the simple part that she can fathom. "So we start a record label and we put out a sampler…and you, yourself are gonna be one of these hardcore nasties? You? My little uptown Newman-educated nephew," Mimi queries, pinching his cheek for good measure. "Don't mock the sad circumstances of my birth," Davis pleads. She finally asks how much she'd be in for and Davis says her stake would be $5,000. "With your money and my vision, we cannot help but become the big sleazy reincarnation of Def Jam Records," Davis predicts. Mimi sighs. "I must be out of my fucking mind," she declares before finishing off that martini.At GiGi's, LaDonna sits at the bar smoking, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and staring as if she isn't there. Her new employee John (David Kency) carries a garbage bag full of trash and notices his boss' state and calls her name. "Sorry Johnny. Not sure where I was for a minute. I'm someplace else," LaDonna says with a crack in her voice. She tells him that she has to get out of there and starts gathering her things. When she stands up from the stool and looks around a second, she retreats to the bar. "Let me walk you to your car," John offers. LaDonna finds the strength to pick up her purse again.
At The House of Blues, Shawn Colvin finishes her performance of "Another Long One" and we see that Davis and Annie are watching from backstage — and Annie has her violin with her. Colvin takes the microphone. "Last night I was on Bourbon Street and I heard this fiddle player and she totally knocked me out," Colvin tells the audience. "I got her to come and give me a hand on this next tune. So will you please welcome New Orleans' own Annie Tee." I believe this is the first time in the series that Annie's last name has been mentioned. (Sonny still doesn't have one that I know of.) Annie joins Colvin on Colvin's song "I'm Gone." In one of the rare missteps of this otherwise great episode, the place they choose to cut away from the performance seems odd and abrupt. I almost wonder if somehow it was cut from last week's episode for length reasons, especially considering that Annie only appeared in 70 seconds of that installment. The rest of this episode's direction has been so good and assured, this sticks out.
Sonny gets his tryout for Antoine Batiste & His Soul Apostles. Antoine doesn't look particularly enthused, but he asks what times Sonny would be available and Sonny tells him anytime — he needs steady work. Antoine tells him he'll get his number and to wait outside and turns to the band for their input. Thaddeus Richard on keyboards has a constipated look similar to Antoine's while bass guitarist Cornell Williams comments, "He's no Freddy Green, but he'll do." Antoine suggests that there might be better guitar players out there. "Speaking of which," Antoine says, "what the hell happened to Raymond?" Cornell informs him that their drummer, Raymond Weber, got a steady gig with another band. Antoine takes off his cap and exclaims, "Oh, man! We ain't even popped our cherry and cats already jumping ship." Antoine asks Herman Jackson, who is sitting in on drums at the auditions, if he has time to learn the arrangements. "Arrangements? We doing a symphony?" Jackson responds. "How about I play 2/4 and you shut the fuck up." "Alright Herm," Antoine says. "I heard you were a contrary motherfucker."
Back at The House of Blues, Shawn Colvin tells Annie, "Listen, there's somebody who needs to meet you." Colvin takes Annie's hand and leads her to a man whom she introduces Annie to as Marvin Frey (Michael Cerveris), who praises Annie's performance as Colvin suddenly excuses herself. Annie asks what he does and he tells her he's a manager representing up-and-coming artists in Austin. Annie blushes, realizing that Colvin sort of set her up, and tells Frey she didn't ask her to do that. He tells her not to worry. "Shawn is like that.
She gets excited about new talent," he says. "And you don't?" Annie responds. He tells her that's why he's there. He asks who her rep is and she says she guesses that's the next step. "I'm sure you'll find someone suitable when the time's right," he predicts. Frey invites her to accompany him and Colvin to another establishment, commenting that she'd dress up the place. Annie, citing a long day, thanks him but declines. I wonder if that mention of Trilby and Svengali in "Everything I Do Gohn Be Funky" was more than just a colorful plant by Simon. Consider Michael Cerveris' Broadway work. He's a multiple Tony Award nominee, with one nomination for the title role in a revival of Stephen Sondheim's Sweeney Todd and a win for playing John Wilkes Booth in Sondheim's Assassins. Is there darkness lurking in Marvin Frey — if the character even reappears? A Facebook friend who would know informs me that we won't see Marvin again this season, but who knows what the future holds? They can't just make the Davis-Annie romance a variation on the Sonny-Annie story where the girlfriend's talent outshines the boyfriend's.Documents that Davis is reading have him completely befuddled. Aunt Mimi may seem like a kook, but she gets serious when she needs to and since they are starting a record label, she's brought her lawyer Charles (Rodney Smith), who has drawn up papers for her nephew to sign. Davis asks Mimi to clarify some of the legalese, but she's busy playing around the kitchen cabinets. Charles though answers in a neutral monotone,
"Standard boilerplate." Mimi turns and says to her nephew, "Oh Davis, just sign the damn papers already so we can open this damn bottle already." Davis finds himself stuck wondering what boilerplate means. "Charles just wants to get everything down on paper to protect us both," Mimi explains, patting her lawyer on his shoulder. "Don't ya, Charles?" In the same vocal timbre, he replies, "Very much so" and then reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a pen and hands it to McAlary. Davis doesn't know what the hell the words mean, but he grimaces and signs the papers anyway. Mimi pops the cork on the champagne. "And away we go!" She pours Charles a drink, and the lawyer, who has been all somber business until now, breaks out in a wide grin. Rodney Smith actually isn't an actor, but owns The Soniat House, a luxury hotel in the French Quarter that was formed by Smith nearly 25 years ago when he combined three historic Creole townhouses together, two of which were built in 1830 by plantation owner Joseph Soniat and a third, even larger house built by Soniat's son in 1834, and renovated them into the boutique hotel. 
With curator Sylvester Francis as her guide, would-be documentary filmmaker Dana Lyndsey tours the Backstreet Cultural Museum — and surprisingly, Albert has tagged along. Dana finds herself quite taken with the large collection of Indian artifacts on display. "I'd love to film all the Indian suits you have with you explaining each one — what style it is, uptown, downtown," she tells Francis. "You know there's more to
Indians than just suits," Albert speaks up. Dana asks to be enlightened. "The work we do in the community. Chief Howard teaching kids to sew. Jerome Smith over at Tambourine & Fan, now he been running a summer camp going on for about forty years," Albert looks to Francis for confirmation on the number of years that Smith has been running the camp and Francis backs up Albert's recollection. "Forty years, passing on the tradition," Albert says. Dana asks Albert if he could be her liaison and be in the film himself. Albert tells her that she doesn't need him, but Dana thought he might have changed his mind and that's why he came to the museum. Albert sighs, "I felt bad about yesterday. I didn't want you goin' away thinkin' that all New Orleans people was rude. I am, but I ain't typical." "I know you're not," Dana tells him and then lets him know that she is from New Orleans East. "She's really just learnin' about Indians," Sylvester informs Albert. Albert tells Dana to call him after Mardi Gras and he'll talk. She asks if she can film him on Mardi Gras Day. In a particularly nice (and uncommon for Albert) moment, he turns practically coquettish as he tells her, "You'll have to film me, girl. I'm gonna be the prettiest." Clarke Peters always turns in great work as Albert, but so far this season, it's mostly consisted of silences that spoke volumes. This episode really marks his first standout, as far as dialogue goes, this season. From beginning to end, Peters gets some great words to say from Elie and he really scores.As I mentioned in the lead, I originally hoped to leave scenes out that didn't really have any details that seemed that important and this one would be an example of that, except that I'd admired director Alex Zakrzewski's opening shot. C.J. Liguori and Nelson are entering the worship center of St. Alphonsus. Zakrzewski opens with the camera down low, aiming up at the church's ornate ceiling through two pillars before the men even come into view. When they do, he stays there, so we are gazing up at Nelson and C.J. as if they're giants. Zakrzewski has directed a lot of episodic dramas for network and cable but, aside from four episodes of HBO's Oz, this marks only his fifth time in the director's chair of a pay cable drama. Earlier, most of his work was as a d.p., including being the cinematographer on a lot of episodes on a great network drama (back when there was such a thing) with a David Simon tie: Homicide: Life on the Street. As for the scene's content, here is all you really need to know:
"Oh damn LaDonna," Antoine says as he brings presents for his sons to her at GiGi's and gets his first look at her bruised and swollen face. "They did a number on you." She tells her ex that the swelling has gone down a lot and he should have seen her a few days again, but her voice sounds odd and wispy, not like the LaDonna we know. Antoine tells her that he hopes she's not planning to work nights alone anymore. She says she has John working nights now and she's considering hiring a security guard for New Year's Eve. "You goin' ahead with live music?" Antoine says with a tone of scolding in his voice that triggers the old LaDonna to come out from wherever she'd been hiding. "I'm not going to let this stop me Antoine." There has been much debate across the web about LaDonna's rape last week, but one thing that can't be argued about is that Khandi Alexander, who was one of the strongest players of Treme's ensemble in season one, now has material that really displays the actress's talent after she didn't have much to do for this season's first two outings. Antoine starts to extend the discussion against live music, but LaDonna interrupts, "If you ever get your shit together, I'll give your band a tryout. See if you can fill a room." She laughs, but it's a strange laugh, almost a cackle and one that sounds as if some form of intoxication is involved. She asks him what he named the band and he tells her it's Antoine Batiste & His Soul Apostles. "Apostles?" She exhales some smoke. "Modest as usual."
never received a first name, so I'm giving him one for this recap. Besides, it's too damn hard to check if I spelled poissonnier right all the time. For this post, I christen the poissonnier Paul. Take two. Flames fly in the kitchen of Brulard as something has gone out of control. "Apocalypse Now, baby!" Paul shouts. "Never get off the boat. Never get off the boat," Janette joins Paul in quoting the Coppola film. A woman comes in and whispers something to the kitchen staff's own version of Colonel Kurtz, though unfortunately for them, Enrico Brulard has not isolated himself in the jungle. "Ladies and gentlemen, listen up. We have a critic in the house," Brulard announces. "Do not fuck this up. A muse for Table 23 please. Three people, ultra ultra VIPs. Break out the etcetera. Don't be fucking childish. This is a big tuna." Paul mouths to a man at the other end of the kitchen, "Who is it?" He mouths back, "Alan Richman." Paul shares the news with Janette that the man who wrote the GQ article blasting New Orleans and its cuisine sits at Table 23. Janette bangs her tongs against her skillet. The horror, the horror.Antoine's expression certainly displays more enthusiasm through the next audition for a guitarist than it did during Sonny's tryout. Antoine's body seems to be grooving involuntarily to the riveting sounds emanating from June Yamagishi's guitar. Antoine merely listens and enjoys at this time, the rest of the Apostles are backing up the Japanese guitarist on their instruments and they look as if they're having a hard time sitting still as
well. At times, Antoine winces, as if he can't believe he's found someone this good. Grinning widely, Antoine lets out a "June Yamagishi — motherfucker." Antoine stretches his arms wide, that smile seeming to reach an even bigger span across his face. "You just fuckin' with me to break my heart?" Antoine asks. It's often hard to decipher conversations on Treme, when two New Orleans natives speak to one another, but it gets more complicated — not just for fans but also for the characters — when a native seeks to communicate to someone for whom English isn't his first language, as is the case with Yamagishi. "No, buddies. I'm on the team," the guitarist replies according to the best of my ears' abilities. If only screeners were closed captioned. Antoine asks June if he'll be with them the next night for the band's debut and June says he'll be honored which starts a verbal Ping Pong match of sorts between the two men about who would be honored, only I think Antoine mishears what June says at one point because it sounds like, "No, I work" but Antoine responds again with "No, I would be honored." Batiste then queries what else June might have in his repertoire and Yamagishi starts fingering a slower tune which Antoine recognizes and begins to sing before it kicks into high gear. It's Al Green's "Love and Happiness." 
If you don't carry a handkerchief, make sure you have a box of tissues nearby. It's time to bid farewell to Enrico Brulard, that crazy bastard. Now I know I've spent a lot of time praising Victor Slezak's portrayal of the barking mad Manhattan chef, but indulge me — this probably marks my last chance to sing his praises. I also should raise a glass to Treme staff writer Anthony Bourdain, who Simon has said handled all the kitchen scenes and created this marvelous character for Slezak to play. Kim Dickens always excels as Janette no matter what she's given to do, but while Dickens works wonders with words, she's been great showing Janette suffer in near silence under the yoke of Brulard. I'm getting misty-eyed just thinking about having to write about our final moment with Enrico Brulard. The kitchen staff hustles in more of a frenzy than usual preparing to feed Alan Richman waiting out there in the dining room at Table 23. Whether or not it's paranoia, Janette tells Paul that Brulard
keeps looking at her. (And what a glare he has!) Paul asks if he's looking at her or through her. "At me. He's been doing it all night," she says and, as if on cue, Brulard turns and stares again. It's a gaze too evil to be hypnotic and you have to wonder how any actor can summon something like that. "He's doing it again. He's doing it now. Fuck me. At me — definitely at me. I don't need this. I really don't need this. Not tonight." After another look and while Janette attempts to concentrate on her job, Paul tries to say without moving his lips that he's coming. Brulard looks at the counter behind Janette and there's a scattering of a black substance — perhaps pepper or some other kind of seasoning — and he takes the palm of this left hand and grinds it into it. He then turns and goes to Janette's side, holding his soiled palm to her face. "This is what the inside of your head looks like right now," he tells her before turning and walking away, presumably for the last time. Bravo, Mr. Slezak! You shall be missed. Janette has had enough. She hangs up her tongs and takes off her apron. Paul asks her what she's doing but all she says is "Sorry, man." As Janette walks out, when she exits the kitchen and reaches the dining area, it's as if her body moves more freely and nothing weighs on her any longer. She goes to the bar and orders a Sazerac. The bartender (Jon Michael Davis) asks if it's for her or Brulard. "Me. And do it the right way. Absinthe. Just coat the glass," she tells him.
The bartender slides Janette her cocktail and she takes a sip. She gives him a motion to indicate that she'll be right back and marches deeper into the dining room. Hmmm. I wonder where she could be going. I bet she has a particular table in mind. (Hint: The table's number is one higher than the number on the roulette wheel that helps the young couple buy exit visas in Casablanca as well as one higher than the
number Julie Hagerty fixates on in roulette in Lost in America.) Yes, Janette may only be armed with a drink, but she's hunting for critic. (As a critic, I wonder — do we taste like chicken? Nah. I bet it's something gamier.) As Janette approaches Alan Richman's dining party, we hear Richman tell his companions, "Journalism — it isn't cheerleading. If we are going to be true to what we believe…" Janette interrupts the conversation. "Excuse me," she says. Richman looks up with a friendly smile. "This is how the Creole fairy folk back home shed their three-day stubble," Janette tells him as she splashes the Sazerac across his face and walks away looking quite satisfied. "Sazerac!" Richman exclaims as staff rushes to tend to him. "You've got to be kidding. Nobody throws a Sazerac." Say what you will about Alan Richman, but he must be one helluva good sport. To be vilified over an article you wrote in GQ in a lengthy scene on a television drama with a staff of writers that includes a man who titled a chapter in a book he wrote "Alan Richman Is a Douchebag" and agree to play yourself on that series and have a drink thrown in your face — that's just very sporting as far as I'm concerned.This week's episode wasn't devoid of scenes that run less than a minute, but that kind of scene in and of itself is not a bad thing. It's when an entire episode is comprised of them, such as in last week's, that it's a problem. There were a few brief ones this time out, but because the show mixed it up in terms of how long scenes were, it improved the flow and didn't make the short ones stick out with one or two exceptions. The first
scene where Davis and Aunt Mimi hit the recording studio runs less than a minute but there's another scene later. I'm combining them into one section. Mimi and Davis sit at the sound board with Don B., son of the legendary Dave Bartholomew, the father of the New Orleans sound of the 1950s. They are listening to one of Davis' possible tracks and he keeps whispering to Don B. changes he expects to make such as getting someone who can "kill that guitar riff better than me." Mimi clasps her hands silently beneath a Saints cap as if in prayer. She opens them and says, "This is working, right?" Davis quickly and nervously utters, "Yeah" but Mimi would prefer confirmation from the professional. "Don?" He looks up and tells her, "Funny stuff, man." Davis defends the music by saying, "It's a relationship track. From the heart. It's my slow jam." When we return, it comes chronologically after Antoine's band debut. Things at the studio are out of control with the artist there
to be recorded, Katey Red, busy texting in the booth while her backups dance vigorously to the bounce track and Aunt Mimi even twirls with them, though she has brought out a flask by now. "Ladies, can we please please please put down one track before midnight," Davis pleads from the soundboard. Mimi gives him a dismissive wave so her nephew addresses her directly. "Aunt Mimi, it's your nickel," he reminds her. Thoroughly soused by now, Mimi replies, "I'm not complainin.'" Davis begs his aunt for some help and she actually exits the booth to return to the board. Davis asks Katey if she wants to hear a beat again and she looks peeved as she looks up from her phone and says, "Damn Davis, I'll tell you when I'm ready. When I'm ready, I'll tell you." Davis' frustration overflows. "Katey, stop texting and start writing…" He can't even complete the thought. The pro in the room steps in to try to smooth things over and suggests a sound for Katey which Don B. plays. Mimi likes it as she lights a cigarette and it captures Katey Red's attention as well who raps what she had just said to Davis on top of it as a musical refrain. Davis cracks a big smile and Mimi says she loves it. "That's brilliant." Davis raises his arms in triumph.
Toni and Sofia head for dinner at Mandina's Restaurant when Toni runs into 1st District Officer Charlie Cantone (David Maldanado). She sends Sofia ahead to get their name on the list for a table at the popular restaurant. The Creole-Italian landmark carries a fascinating history. Its origins date back 1898 when Italian immigrant Sebastian Mandina opened a grocery on the Mid-City site. His sons transitioned the store to a pool hall that served sandwiches and in 1932 turned it into the full-fledged restaurant it remains today. When Katrina struck, the area and the restaurant took six feet of water and after decades of continuous service, Mandina's had to close. Eighteen months later after a massive restoration, Mandina's reopened on Feb. 7, 2007. The online menu makes it look pretty appetizing and not outrageously priced. Wish I could have eaten there. Toni and Cantone exchange pleasantries and he asks what she's been doing. "Still dealing with the fallout from the storm," Toni tells him. "Time to move on," Cantone says. "Like the Danziger crap. What's done is done. That was the storm. Get over it." Now, have we known
Toni Bernette to get over something or give up easily? She pushes on. "I'd like to if the First didn't stir up the shit at Robideaux's," she says, with a slightly mischievous grin. The store's mention obviously surprises Cantone, but he doesn't say anything until Toni tells him she has witnesses that say the 1st District cleared the place with billy clubs. "Looters — and we were turning a blind eye," Cantone tells her. "Then they started taking potshots at one of our guys." That's a new wrinkle for Toni. "They fired on the officers? At Robideaux's?" she says with surprise. "Even you would agree that's a line you've got to draw," the officer declares. "So we went over and swept out the undesirable element." Toni starts grinning and swaying, trying to coax Cantone to admit they just wanted to kick ass. "Sure as shit, Toni. O'Dell was taking rifle fire. They shot up his car. It was out of control. Governor said, 'Take back the city', we took back the city," Cantone states. Toni pats Cantone on the arm, "You sure did."
It's finally come: The debut of Antoine Batiste & His Soul Apostles at Le Bon Temps Roule, a bar and restaurant in the Uptown area that opened in 1979. It only serves beer and liquor so if you want specialty drinks, you're out of luck and you'll have to go elsewhere if you're in a Sazerac-tossing mood. They do offer free oysters on Fridays and beers for a buck if the Saints are playing. You also can play pool. Most
importantly, for bands such as Antoine's, they've dubbed their stage "The House of Dues" and use it as a place for local bands to get a start before they find greater success. The bar's name comes from the French phrase "Laissez les bons temps rouler" which roughly means "Let the good times roll" and things begin to roll as Wanda Rouzan and the band start rousing the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, you have been listening to the celestial sounds of Antoine Batiste and the (sic) Soul Apostles," Wanda speaks soothingly and rhythmically into the main microphone. She then tells the crowd, "Now welcome to the stage the man with the plan — the bone with the tone that makes it home — Mister Antoine Batiste." Antoine comes bouncing through the audience, pumping his trombone over his head to the crowd's cheers. When he reaches the mic, he plays a few triumphant notes on his horn before greeting the attendees himself. "So whatcha gonna play next, Bat?" Wanda asks in a rehearsed bit that some may recognize as a clue to what song they are about to hear. "Wanda, I don't know, but if Le Bon puttin' it on, it's gotta be funky." Antoine starts counting off and then sings and plays "Make It Funky," a big hit for James Brown. The band celebrates its first night's success after the show. "Damn, that shit sounds good," Antoine tells his members. "This is it. This is my main shit now. We got us a band. Already done got like five gigs." He tells them he's booked them for two nights running at The Bottom Line on Claiborne: Christmas Eve and Christmas night. "I'm talking about a holiday extravaganza," Antoine enthuses. June starts to speak. I told you something got lost in translation. Yamagishi tells Antoine that he already has a gig scheduled for Christmas Eve. "Shit. What happened to that 'I would be honored' and all that," Antoine asks. June apologizes but insists that he told Batiste about it. Thaddeus suggests they call Sonny, though Antoine is cold to that plan. The keyboard player tells him that on that short of notice, what choice do they have? Antoine relents and tells him to call Sonny tomorrow. Antoine turns and notices a young lady bending over to take her shot at the pool table. It's been awhile since we've seen the horndog side of Antoine. "I got an idea," he says.
We haven't seen any of Lt. Terry Colson in this episode and the few times we will, they are very quick scenes, but they do add some insight into this character we're still getting to know. We learned he has sons from his lunch with Toni and we see him wrapping gifts in his office, but Sgt. Bechet reminds him that it's Christmas Eve but it's also a Sunday so the Post Office is closed. The one son he talked about sounded like he was older, but it would seem all his boys live somewhere else. We also learn that he lives in a trailer home, but we can't tell for certain from the shot if it's one provided by FEMA after Katrina and means he lost his home.
Since Officer Cantone slipped and gave the name of Officer O'Dell (Caleb Michaelson) to Toni, she calls him for an interview on his day off. He tells her he was fired on as soon as he pulled into Robideaux's parking lot and took shots in his passenger side door. "Charlie said you were scared," Toni tells him. "It freaked me. This shit, rifle fire," the cop says. He tells her he didn't stop, just pulled a U-turn and went back to the station house.
"Could you tell where the shots came from?" Toni asks. O'Dell said they sounded like they were from someplace up high such as a roof, balcony or even the projects. "I get back to the station, guys see the bullet holes and flip out. About a half-dozen of us posse up and go back to Robideaux's to lay down the law," O'Dell informs her. Whereas Cantone's tone was hostile, O'Dell's seems pleasant and he seems eager to tell the story. Toni asks if he went in the store, but he says he stayed outside and chased "the looters" off as they came out. Toni seeks confirmation that some cops went inside. "Oh yeah," the officer says, "and they came out saying they recognized some assholes from the Iberville. Next thing I know, fuck if we're not headed over there." Toni asks if he went along. "We'd been through three days of hell by then. I didn't need me no more." Then Toni comes to that moment she gets to in every interview where she asks something that shuts her interviewee up. "So who led the charge over to Iberville?" O'Dell, friendly and talkative until then, slows. "You mean like names?" Toni confirms that's what she's asking and O'Dell's memory for details suddenly grows fuzzy and he claims not to remember, blaming the chaos of the storm. Toni thanks him for meeting her on his day off and, with an anxious tone, he tries to confirm that Cantone had said it was OK to talk with her. "He gave me your name," Toni says. A suddenly worried O'Dell mutters, "Shit" and takes off. With each new witness to the events at Robideaux's, the story Toni is trying to piece together about Joey Abreu changes and grows more complicated. Perhaps a better name for the store would have been Rashomon.Janette sits at a New York bar sipping a drink when Paul enters carrying her knife roll. She's as joyous as if she's been reunited with a long lost child. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don't know what I'd do without my babies," she says clutching them as Paul joins her at the bar. He tells
Janette that her name will live in history. “In infamy, you mean,” Janette suspects he meant to say. “I’ve never done anything like that before in my life,” she admits. “Have you seen the website?” Paul asks. “You’re fucking famous.” Janette tells Paul that she doesn’t need that kind of fame. “I fucked up. Big time. Biggest ever. Like in the history of the world. Total disgrace. I’ll never work again,” Janette says, lamenting her actions. One thing that I always love to watch for is how talented performers such as Kim Dickens manipulate props and she’s great here, constantly playing with the straw in her drink, either lifting it up and down or spinning it in circles. “I don’t know about you opening a restaurant here in New York anytime soon,” Paul says before he leans in and continues, “but holy shit! You are a fuckin’ outlaw.” He mentions an ad that “Makes you sound like Bonnie and Clyde, only without the Clyde.” Paul grabs her shoulder. “You’re a fuckin’ hero!” Janette lets the straw fall into her mouth and says she wants to die. “Don’t die. Just change your name,” Paul suggests before clinking his glass against hers and hoarsely whispering, “Bonnie! Bonnie!”Antoine and his Apostles practice before their Christmas Eve show when Herman suggests, “Let’s wrap this bitch up and get out of here. The game’s on.” The group seems to be in agreement, since they have a quorum even minus their last-minute guitarist Sonny, who walks in just then. “Oh I see your boy’s shuttle from Amsterdam must have been late,” Antoine says. Sonny claims that he thought rehearsal was at noon. Antoine tells him that everyone else knew the right time. Sonny apologizes and tells Antoine he learned the tunes he told him to learn. Batiste lets Sonny know that they’ll see how things go at the performance that night. “Y’all make sure he knows what time the gig is for,” Antoine shouts past Sonny to the other members. “And wear something red.” Antoine exits with the rest as Sonny stands looking around, clueless as always.
Chants of “Who Dat?” envelop a New York bar that’s filled with people wearing New Orleans Saints jerseys except for talent manager James Woodrow, who dons Giants gear and looks oddly out of place. Delmond sits at the bar joining in the chorus. “It’s like the Louisiana Purchase in reverse,” Woodrow tells Del. Woodrow asks if it’s always a New Orleans bar or only on Sundays in football season. “Twenty-four/seven, threesixtyfive — like New Orleans in exile,” Delmond tells him. “They are playing the Giants — in New York. It should be illegal,” Woodrow declares. Woodrow switches subjects to Jelly Roll Morton and Del discusses how they’ve lost what’s elemental and soulful about New Orleans music and New Orleans culture in contemporary jazz. He pitches his idea for a modern jazz album that will bring those along but also makes a statement. “If Picasso was modern, then Louis Armstrong and Papa Celestin, they modern, too,” Delmond states. Woodrow asks what most viewers of last week’s episode must be thinking. “Didn’t you fire me?” Delmond laughs and tells Woodrow not to worry about that. His manager reminds him that he told Delmond more than a year ago to make a New Orleans album. “That’s why I’m rehiring you Woodrow,” Del says, “because you so damn smart.”
Director Alex Zakrzewski must love the slow pan from somewhere else where we can hear the characters who will be in the next scene before the camera actually finds them because he uses that technique a lot in this episode. Perhaps he’s too dependent on that directing move, but at least he has style and not a machete such as we endured in last week’s direction. Sofia, believe it or not, shares with her mother a tale of
silly romantic machinations at her high school as she and Toni wrap Christmas presents in front of the tree. You see Toni trying to hide her giddy grin that her 16-year-old daughter has opened up to her and she asks what Sofia means by “going out.” Sofia shrugs. “Going out. It’s not a big deal or anything.” That brief thaw seems to have refrozen, especially when Sofia flips open her cell and Toni asks if they can have five or 10 minutes of mother-daughter time alone at Christmas without that phone. “Oh my God,” Sofia responds as she reads the text. “Mister Weyman committed suicide.” The last word hits Toni hard as she recognizes the name as a teacher at Lusher. Sofia tells her mom he taught honors chemistry. Melissa Leo always is great, but we mostly see her doggedly pursuing the truth. This shakes her as it takes her back to when she learned of Creighton’s suicide, which she still hides from Sofia, perputating the lie that his death was an accident. Toni stops wrapping and gets completely frazzled and on the verge of tears. “Sof, that’s terrible,” she says. “Did he have family?" Sofia tells her mom that he wasn’t one of her teachers so she doesn’t know. “They found him yesterday in house,” Sofia continues her report. “He shot himself.” Leo is great at subtly showing Toni nearly falling apart as she reaches for her daughter. “Baby, do you want to talk about this?” Toni asks. Sofia might be savvy enough to know that her mom needs the talk because she replies, “If you want. I didn’t really know him.”
Back at the New York bar, all those Saints fans are cheering and, in case you didn’t notice before (I did, but I didn’t point it out) Janette celebrates the victory a few stools down from Delmond. Strangers throughout the bar hug, including Del and Janette, marking the second episode in a row where Janette has shared screentime with a Lambreaux. Delmond recognizes her from a place in New Orleans and asks if she still lives back home or if she’s in New York now. Janette tells him she’s relocated there and she likes New York. “There’s a lot to like about New York,” Del says. BLOGGER’S NOTE: Ain’t it the truth. Sigh…Janette says she especially enjoys not having to think about the federal flood all the time. The two new friends introduce themselves by name. She asks him if he’s New York or NOLA and Woodrow chimes in that he’s lived in Manhattan for three years. Del does mention that he’s flying home on Christmas to take his dad out for dinner. Delmond spots the satchel carrying her cutlery and asks what it is. When she tells him it's her knife roll, he asks if she’s a chef. “Or something. I walked out of my restaurant last night,” she tells him. “Oh. So you kinda like one of them ronin out of ancient Japan who wander the earth with a sword but got no master,” Delmond says. “That’s a nice way of saying I’m out of work,” Janette responds. She asks his vocation and Woodrow speaks up again, identifying him as a great musician. Delmond tells her he’s playing The Blue Note and he’ll put her on the guest list.
“Hark! What’s that sound on my roof fucking up my shingles?” Herman Jackson asks while twirling his drumstick on the stage of The Bottom Line. “Must be Santa Claus and his reindeer,” Wanda Rouzan replies from the main microphone. Maybe Antoine didn’t have sex on his mind after all because those two young women are dressed as Christmas elves and dance their way into the scene ahead of Batiste who starts singing, “Santa Claus Wants Some Lovin,’” written by Albert King and even recorded by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Antoine and most of the band (even Sonny) wear Santa caps.
We move from the exuberant sounds at The Bottom Line to the absolute silence at LaDonna’s house. It’s nearly dark and she sits in the center of the L-shaped sectional, a drink in her hand, staring at the Christmas tree. She raises the glass to take a sip and then looks startled, as if she heard something. She gulps, then returns to the booze.
Some of the band and the elves are relaxing after the first set at The Bottom Line when Antoine and Cornell notice Sonny heading outside with someone. Antoine motions to Cornell to follow him. When the bass guitarist gets outside, he spots Sonny scoring some dope on the corner. He approaches Sonny, who looks embarrassed. Cornell rests his shades atop his head and tells Sonny, “I know what you’re dealing with and I know something else. You in no danger of being like no great musician.” Sonny tells him he knows. “So you might not want to blow this here gig,” Cornell suggests, “because how many more are you going to get? It’s a small town. Word gets around.” Listen to him Sonny. Time to ply your trade elsewhere. Please. Pretty please.
The Williams family celebrates Christmas morning in Baton Rouge and few seem more pleased than Antoine’s sons Alcide (Renwick D. Scott II) and Randall (Sean-Michael Bruno) who really love the gifts the father they seldom see sent them. They have to explain them to Mrs. Brooks and, with a bit of contempt in his voice, Larry comments, “Looks like he really stepped up his game this year.”
Delmond asks Albert how his filet is, but his dad says it’s a little pink. “It’s supposed to be,” Del says. “I know how you like it. Knock the bones off it, wipe its ass and send it on out. Not me. I like mine cooked,” Albert responds. Delmond asks his dad if he wants to send it back. “So they can mess it up again?” Albert replies.
Delmond finally asks his father what his problem has been lately, telling him that he hasn’t been acting like himself and that nothing pleases him. “I’m the same as I always was. Nothing pleases me unless it’s right,” Albert insists. Delmond rattles off a list of things that haven’t been right for Albert of late: the food, going by Sherry’s in Atlanta or Davina’s in Houston for Thanksgiving…Albert interrupts to tell Del that he didn’t have to fly down to take him out for Christmas dinner — that was his idea. Delmond suggests to Albert that after all he’s been through, he might be depressed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It ain’t no thing. They got medicine for that now,” the son says. “That’s what you think I need — medicine. You know how many applications they got for that Road Home money? Ninety thousand. Mine is one of them. You know how many they processed so far? Now, I read this in the paper the other day,” Albert tells his son who does ask how many. “Eighty two,” his father replies. “Now at that rate, when do you think I’m gonna get my money to fix up my house? Depressed, shit. I ain’t depressed. I’m so mad I can’t even see straight,” Albert declares before throwing his napkin on the table and walking out. 
Antoine comes out of The Bottom Line and finds Terrell Batiste on the phone on the sidewalk. Antoine tries to tell him it’s time to get back on stage, but Terrell motions for Antoine to be quiet. When Terrell ends the call, he tells Antoine that it was Bennie Pete, his other boss as the leader of The Hot 8 Brass Band. “Dinerral just got shot,” Terrell says. “He dead.” At last, before I go further, I can cleanse my soul and make my confession. For the past two weeks, I’ve been misleading you dear reader. While researching The Hot 8 Brass Band for the second episode to determine who the other member was talking to Antoine and Bennie Pete, I accidentally stumbled upon an interview with Pete where he discussed the December 2006 murder of their snare drummer Dinerral Shavers and
how David Simon had asked permission to work his killing into the season’s story. Pete also mentioned that the actor they hired to play Dinerral (Reginal Varice) looked a lot like the real Shavers. Since I only promise that I will reveal spoilers for the episode I’m recapping, I didn’t want to give it away by naming the actor when he first appeared but I didn’t think it would be right either to
omit his brief scenes, since I knew there would be a later payoff and readers needed to know who got killed. So I just wrote as if it were the real Dinerral, assuming that few Hot 8 aficionados would be reading my recap and know that it wasn’t really him or they’d just assume I wasn’t informed enough to know it wasn’t him. Shew. I can breathe easier now. Back to the scene. A stunned Antoine can only respond, “What the fuck?” Terrell explains (and this is how it actually happened) that at a stop sign, a kid aimed a gun on Shavers’ stepson in Dinerral’s car, but Dinerral got hit instead, making Shavers the fourth member of The Hot 8 Brass Band to die since its inception. “Damn,” Antoine says, shaking his head. “Damn. Shit.” As I wrote at the outset of this post, Wendell Pierce provides the heart and soul of Treme and while much of what he brings is light, comical or musical, he can bring it when the action gets heavier as well. Antoine asks Terrell how Bennie was holding up. “At first he like, ‘Dinerral gone. He dead.’ Then he got real quiet and I go, ‘Bennie. Bennie.’ Then he said we got a gig Thursday and wondered who we could use as a snare drummer. Then he started crying and hung up the phone,” Terrell recounts. The Lambreauxs lean against the car parked in the driveway of Albert’s house when the father asks his son if he brought his steak. “You said you didn’t like it,” Del says. Raising his voice slightly, Albert clarifies. “I said I didn’t want them to mess it up again.” Delmond lights up, though it doesn’t appear that it’s your over-the-counter cigarette that he’s smoking. “By the time I put that in my black skillet, you gonna have a piece of meat,” Albert insists. “It’s a good thing I know your crazy ass like I do,” Delmond tells Albert. “It’s in the car.” Del passes his father his smoke. “There’s something I want to tell you. I was out of line at dinner. I didn’t mean to come at ya like that.” Albert exhales a long puff of smoke. “I’m glad you realize that because I know I ain’t crazy,” his father replies. “I’ve got plenty of sense I ain’t even used yet.” Del laughs and takes another hit. “You a sick man,” he coughs. “Just leave that medicine when you go,” Albert says, prompting another half laughing/half coughing spell in Delmond as Albert pats his back.
*information courtesy of AllMusic
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Labels: Awards, Clarke Peters, Coppola, David Simon, E. Ashley, HBO, Homicide, Kim Dickens, M. Cerveris, Melissa Leo, Musicals, Overmyer, Sondheim, Treme, TV Recap, Wendell Pierce
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